


Graceless

by sarasaurusrex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Bonding, Castiel in Alternate Vessels (Supernatural), Crowley Lives (Supernatural), Feels, Meta-Humor, Minor Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Crowley (Supernatural)/Sam Winchester, Minor Original Character(s), New Orleans, Strippers & Strip Clubs, TFW related:, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), Teamwork, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarasaurusrex/pseuds/sarasaurusrex
Summary: Set in early season 13, Sam and Dean catch wind of a dangerous artifact making its way to New Orleans that can supposedly expel angels from their vessels. They meet up with Castiel and Jack, but tensions arise when it’s made clear that Dean still doesn’t trust Jack. To add to their problems, the artifact has attracted a powerful new villain to the Crescent City, Emile.Despite the help of an unexpected ally, Team Free Will 2.0 is no match for Emile and he uses the artifact to expel Castiel and severely damage Jack’s powers. All seems lost, until Castiel saves Sam, Dean, and Jack in a temporary new vessel: an eight-year-old girl.Now, in order to retrieve the artifact, defeat Emile, and save Cas and Jack's grace, Team Free Will 2.0 must put aside their issues and trust one another. Only then will they understand that grace or no grace, human or angel, they're all one family.Created for the Team Free Will Big Bang.Art by the amazingJenniferB.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 20
Collections: Team Free Will Big Bang: Collection 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy to finally post my submission for this year's Team Free Will Big Bang! I didn't have as much time for bangs this year so this is only one of two I'm posting (the other will be in November), but I'd recommend anyone interested to join a bang. They're a lot of fun and you meet a lot of great people in the fandom.
> 
> You can check out JenniferB's full art post [here](https://jenniferb-art.tumblr.com/post/629119423561744384).  
> And a big thank you to [Megan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wisconsennach/) for being an awesome beta!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

It was late afternoon as the Impala roared down Interstate 10, following the Mississippi River. Dean had the windows rolled down and the breeze blowing off the bald cypress and swampland bore a hint of salt and sea. The traffic had finally given way and Dean roared the engine in relief.

“I still say we could’ve spent another night in Baton Rouge,” Dean said, tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel. “What a city.” He whistled appreciatively.

Sam eyed him, spotting the glazed look in his eye. “Uh-uh. We’re supposed to be looking for the artifact.”

“We are looking.”

Sam sighed, smiling slightly. “Well it won't be anywhere you were looking last night.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, maybe not. Hey, what time are we meeting Cas and Jack?”

Sam glanced at his watch. “Three hours ago?”

Dean’s lips twitched. “Whoops.” He sped up, overtaking a few trucks as exit signs began to pass by. He read the billboards—Whitney Plantation, Laplace, Cajun Pride Swamp Tours... “Hey Sammy, wanna take a swamp tour?”

“And see you get eaten by a ‘gator? No thanks.”

Dean considered this. He probably would get eaten by a ‘gator. “Good point. Okay so, tell me again how we’re going to find this artifact when we don’t even know what it looks like?”

Sam sighed. He couldn't help but share some of Dean’s pessimism. “We’re going to meet with Crowley’s contact. They should be able to help us.”

“I don’t like the sound of that ‘should’. Or ‘Crowley’, for that matter.” Dean frowned. “Of all the people to come back, why’d it have to be Crowley?”

“We got Cas back,” Sam said. “Besides, this is the best plan we’ve got. An object with that kind of power is too dangerous to let roam around the country, especially not when the demons are looking for it, too.”

“Got it,” Dean said. “Find artifact. Kill demons.”

Sam smiled.

Lake Pontchartrain bloomed into view to the left. A pair of egrets flew across the sunlit waves as the Impala passed under a sign that read: Welcome To New Orleans. 

“And when we find it?” Dean muttered.  
.  
Sam glanced at him. Dean’s eyes were fixed on the road ahead. 

“Dean, we have no idea what the side effects are for something like that. It’s not safe,” he said quietly.

Dean didn’t respond.

Sam frowned, watching the egrets disappear into the swamp. “We’ll figure it out when we get it, alright?”

Dean murmured back something that sounded like ‘alright’. A moment of windy, summer silence passed between them as they entered the outskirts of the crescent city, until Dean shouted, “Hey!” making Sam jump in his seat.

Sam looked around. A large, blue sign towered over the interstate that said ‘Sammy’s’ and then underneath, ‘Château des Anges’. Dean shot Sam a boyish grin.

Sam’s jaw stiffened. “No.”

“It’s got your name on it!”

“We are not going to a strip club. We’re on a job!”

Dean’s smile faded into a pout. “Spoil-sport.”

Sam reread the sign incredulously.

“What’s that say, anyway? Chat-oo des Anges?”

“Castle of Angels.”

Dean chuckled. “I’ll bet it is.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You know, on second thought, that swamp tour sounds nice.”

Dean smacked Sam’s chest across the seat. Sam smiled and hit him back.

“How can you read that anyway? You don’t speak Italian.”

Sam cleared his throat. “It’s French. And it’s all derived from Latin anyway, which we do speak by the way. Pretty often.” 

“That we do, Sammy. That we do.” Then he added affectionately, “You big nerd.”

It had been years since Sam and Dean visited New Orleans, and it was just as lively and colorful as they remembered. Summer had just begun and the city was already alive with movement and music. For once Dean didn’t mind getting stopped at every other red light or getting stuck on one-way streets. Each district seemed to be having some sort of festival and the streets smelled of seafood and spices. Sam had to stop Dean from pulling over more than once to grab some beignets from roving carts.

At last they left the welcoming sights and smells of downtown and pulled over at a dingy motel. Dean smirked at the large, plastic alligator out front. The sun was twice as brutal without the wind blowing in their faces so they were both happy to get to their room. They didn’t go to the front desk to check-in, however. Dean found the door to number seven and let himself and Sam inside.

The motel room had two beds, peeling wallpaper, a tv playing some sort of gameshow, and two angels waiting for Sam and Dean. Castiel and Jack looked up from the tv at the same time. Sam smirked at the sight.

“Sam, Dean,” Castiel said. “You’re late.”

“Good to see you, too, Cas.” Dean walked over and gave him a quick but firm pat on the shoulder.

Jack’s face had split into a wide grin the moment the door opened. “Hi!”

Sam smiled back at him. “Hey, Jack. How’ve you been?”

“Great! I’ve been learning so much from Castiel.”

Sam glanced at Castiel. Jack seemed to be enjoying his hunting excursion with Castiel, although Sam couldn’t help but notice that Castiel looked exhausted. Sam gave him a reassuring smile and Castiel returned it.

Castiel and Jack happened to be in Texas when Sam first caught wind of the artifact, so they’d agreed to meet them in the Crescent City to help. Sam was happy to see Jack had progressed in learning to use, and control, his powers with the help of Castiel’s tutelage. Jack immediately began showing Sam how well he could move pencils (and just about anything else) without touching them. Sam chuckled as, when he asked Dean to pass him his laptop, it came floating over to him cheerily. Sam caught sight of Dean’s stony expression, however, and turned the conversation around to the case. He had a feeling Castiel had noticed Dean’s expression as well. Sam bit back a sigh.

Castiel and Jack hadn’t done much to make themselves at home in the motel room, so Dean took it upon himself to unload his and Sam’s things all over the room while they shared information. 

“So you said you got this information from Crowley?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Believe me, we don’t like it any more than you do.”

“He did die for us, Dean,” Sam said.

Dean gave a noncommittal shrug. Who hasn’t died?

“Crowley… he was the King of Hell?” Jack looked to Castiel.

Castiel nodded. “He died in the other universe so we could trap Lucifer there.”

Sam felt an unpleasant jolt. He didn’t look at Dean, but he could tell Dean had felt it, too. Neither said anything, so Castiel continued.

“It worked… but Crowley was resurrected. We think he worked a deal with the Empty.”

Jack looked deep in thought. “So he’s the reason Lucifer is gone. And M…?”

“If you ask me,” Dean said, loading bullets into the chamber of his gun, “It was Billie. She had a thing for him, remember? Knowing Crowley he worked his magic on her and got himself broken out of the empty.” Dean shuddered at the thought, although he gave Sam an oddly knowing look.

Sam cleared his throat.

“Although if my sources are correct,” Castiel pressed on, “he hasn’t retaken his throne. He hasn’t been seen at all. Sam, are you sure it’s him?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam said quickly.

Jack smiled, as if this settled the matter.

“I think we can trust him on this one,” Sam added. “He doesn’t want this artifact out there any more than we do. So we’ll go meet his contact, get their information, then hopefully find this thing by sundown.”

“Who is his contact?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, “A demon, probably. There’s a few that are still loyal to him.” 

Castiel and Dean nodded.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Jack stood up. “I’m ready.”

“Not yet, Jack,” Castiel held him back. “We need the address.”

“I have it,” Sam said. “He texted it to me.” Sam ignored the shrewd look Dean gave him.

Dean had finished sorting their gear and passed some ammo to Sam. They both hid small pistols under their clothes then grabbed their bags. Castiel double-checked his angel blade. Jack beamed around at them. As they began to leave, Dean pulled Cas aside.

“One sec,” Dean said. “Sam, Jack, we’ll meet you outside.”

Sam didn’t question it. He stepped outside with Jack and let the door fall shut. Castiel looked questioningly at Dean.

“How are you holding up, Cas?” Dean asked.

Castiel examined the serious look on Dean’s face, then sighed. “I’m fine, Dean,” he said, absently straightening his tie.

“No, you’re not. I saw that look. Is everything alright with Jack?”

Comprehension dawned and he replied quickly. “Yes. It’s not… it’s not Jack.” Castiel said firmly. “He is more powerful than I imagined, but he is just as kind and honest. I trust him completely.”

Dean’s expression didn’t change. “You look tired, is all.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows in defeat. “Yes, I am… tired.”

“Well, if you need to hang back and rest, we can take care of the kid. He loves Sam.”

“He loves you, too, Dean,” Castiel said.

Dean’s expression was inscrutable. For a moment it looked like he wanted to say something, or maybe wanted Castiel to say something, but the moment passed.

“I’ll be fine,” Castiel assured him, “I just hope I can be useful.”

“You always are,” Dean said tersely. “Alright, c’mon. Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

Despite having an address to follow, finding the meetup location for Crowley's informant proved to be a challenge. Dean kept running into festivals, and Sam’s temper was rising the more Dean scrutinized Crowley’s information. Soon the brothers were bickering while Castiel and Jack sat crammed in the backseat, the summer heat washing over them all in waves. Jack's eyes couldn’t get wide enough to take in all the sights, and even Castiel commented on a person pushing a grumpy looking pitbull in a pink stroller.

“That’s the happiest dog I’ve ever seen,” Castiel grumbled in astonishment.

Sam and Dean both looked around despite themselves, at least until Dean slammed on the breaks just in time to avoid running another red light.

“Damnit!” Dean smacked the steering wheel.

Sam sighed in exasperation. “I’m telling you, we’re not going in the right direction. We should just get back on the interstate. And would it kill you to put AC in here?”

“Don’t listen to him, Baby,” Dean grumbled. “You’re perfect as is.”

“Alright, look,” Sam said. “Why don’t we split up? We might have better luck.” He turned around to look at Cas and Jack. “What do you think? Dean and I can drive around and you guys can…”

“Fly around. Sure!” Jack said.

Castiel sighed. “Yeah, come on Jack. We’ll call if we find it.”

The red light was long enough to let Castiel and Jack hop out and get onto the sidewalk. The light turned green and Dean watched, disheartened, as he saw Jack stop Cas to buy some beignets.

“Man, this sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam wiped sweat off his brow. “Hey, what did you and Cas talk about?”

Dean watched as the dog in a stroller passed them. He half wished he was dozing in a stroller, being pushed by a pretty brunette. “Just checking in on him. You know he never fully recovered his grace before he died and when Jack brought him back… well, it looks like he brought him back as is.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that,” Sam said. “I just wish there was something we could do for him.”

“Me, too.”

Sam gave him a searching look, then returned to the maps app on his phone. “You know, maybe I should get out and search on foot, too. Maybe the address is one of those shipping warehouses down there.”

“You mean down those sketchy docks? Yeah, that sounds like Crowley. Fine.” Dean pulled down a one-way street to let Sam out. “Call me if you find it.” 

Sam stepped out, squinting in the sunlight, then ducked down to look at Dean through the window. “Oh, and Dean?” Sam caught Dean’s eye wandering to a woman walking down the sidewalk with beads around her neck.

“...yeah?” Dean tore his gaze back to Sam.

“No strip clubs. I mean it.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

After nearly a half an hour of driving around and hearing nothing from Sam, Cas, or Jack, Dean’s resolve finally broke. Irritated by the heat and by Crowley’s unhelpfulness (which was obviously deliberate, how could Sam not see that?), Dean decided to ditch the address and go to the one place in town he knew he could get reliable information on New Orlean’s lowlives.

The inside of Sammy’s strip club was cool and dimly lit. It truly felt like a ‘castle of angels’ after the unyielding heat. There was a full bar, several platforms, and quite a few semi-private booths. It wasn’t very busy, but Dean could tell that come nightfall the place would be packed. The two girls currently entertaining a guest were nearly nude, and one of them had angel wings. Dean smirked.

He ordered a whiskey from the bar, tipped the bartender, then headed over to the girls. He was glad he still had some cash from the previous night. He was intending to question the men grouped near one of the platforms, he really was, but as soon as he sat down and got comfortable, his eye on the Asian girl with wings, the music changed. Dean sipped his drink and watched as the lights went from angelic blue to exotic green, and a new girl came out to change places with the angel. Dean was disappointed, but only for a moment. 

The new girl was tall with long, dark hair, olive skin, and heartstopping lime-green eyes. She was more toned than the other girls, and she wore a strappy black outfit that made Dean’s imagination run wild. His thoughts of questioning the other men vanished completely. The girl winked at Dean as she reached her pole and began to dance. As she spun, Dean noticed a few beauty marks in all the right places, not to mention a tattoo on her ass. He smiled dazedly.

Dean took a long sip of whiskey then set it back down on the napkin. As he watched the new girl move (he vaguely heard her introduced as Sasha), his eyes fell from the tattoo on her ass to the napkin under his drink. It took him several long minutes for his saturated brain to catch up to his eyes. At last it hit him, and his brows contracted slowly.

That was no ordinary tattoo. He glanced at the other men nearby. No else had noticed. Of course they hadn’t. It was a hunter’s tattoo, similar to his and Sam’s but with small differences. Dean picked up his drink, this time to read the napkin with the strip club’s address on it. A smug smile stole across his face. He pulled out his phone, letting his eyes wander back to the girl as he victoriously called Sam.

Sam, Cas, and Jack were having no luck. They ran into one another on Canal Boulevard with a look of exasperated surprise and decided it was time for Sam to call Crowley. 

“Hello, love,” Crowley answered with a purr.

“Don’t you ‘hello, love’ me.” Sam’s voice dropped. “Where did you send us? I can’t find this place anywhere. If I didn’t know better…”

“You know I love it when the moose gets angry.”

Sam closed his eyes as if praying for patience. “Crowley...”

“You and Squirrel really are hopeless. I left you a sign.”

“You… what?” Sam glanced over to Jack and Cas. Jack was asking a passerby about the colorful beads around her neck.

“A sign, Samantha. You should pay more attention. Where are you?”

“On Canal and Walker.” Sam watched the woman and her friend giggling at Jack and Cas.

“You need to get back on the interstate. Go West. It’s a charming little place across from an old church. Can’t miss it.”

Sam’s brows came together. He saw one of the women take off some of her beads and put them over Jack’s head. Jack beamed at Castiel.

“Crowley...“ Sam’s voice was almost as gravelly as his. “Did Billie pull you out of the Empty? Did you make a deal with her before you died?”

“Are you jealous?” Crowley rasped.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” His phone suddenly buzzed. Dean was calling. “I gotta go. I’ll deal with you later.”

“Such a tease. By the way, have you told your brother yet about our little…”

Sam hung up on him. “Dean?” he answered.

“Heya Sammy. How goes the search?”

“Bad. Where are you?”

“Who, me? Oh, well…” There was something unsettling about the smile audible in Dean’s voice and the music playing in the background.

“Are you at a bar?”

“Nope. I’m at the address.”

“What? You found it?”

“Mhm. And our contact… She’s not a demon. She’s a hunter. Got a tattoo and everything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, she uh... she’s pretty much shaking it in my face.”

“Alright, great! Where are you?”

On the other end of the line, Dean smiled wider than ever.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Sam, Cas, and Jack arrived at the Château des Anges, the parking lot was packed. The sun was low in the sky, and an accumulation of clouds had broken the summer heat. The air was humid and smelled like rain. Sam and Castiel tried to get Jack to wait outside, stating that a strip club was no place for a two-year-old angel, but Jack was persistent.

“But my ID says I’m 25.” Jack smiled knowingly at a weary-looking Castiel. 

Sam bit back a smile and tried to look supportive of Cas, but in the end Cas caved and the three of them entered the building. 

Once they passed the bouncers they began looking for Dean. It was hard to communicate over the music blaring and the colored lights dancing across each other’s faces, but Sam knew where to go. They pushed through the crowd and found Dean waiting for them at the bar.

Dean grinned when he saw the stony look on Sam’s face. “You made it!”

“Shut up. Where’s the hunter?”

Dean chuckled as he saw Castiel cover Jack’s eyes, which had wandered to the nearly nude girls. They were setting up a folding chair on the stage to many whoops and catcalls. “I uh…” Dean’s smile faded slightly, “I lost her.”

“You what?” Sam replied.

“But don’t worry, she’s still here. She just… isn’t out anymore.”

“What do you mean she isn’t out…?”

“She’s a stripper, Sammy,” Dean told his brother giddily.

Sam blinked, then muttered something that sounded like, “Damnit, Crowley.” 

Castiel and Jack were listening in now.

“She had a hunter’s mark on… uh, on her ass.”

Castiel squinted.

“I tried to get a private room with her, believe me, but I guess she’s off the menu. Sorry.”

“She… okay,” Sam collected himself. “We’ll just have to ask around, then. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot that tattoo here.”

Dean’s smile was back. “Hey Cas, is this really the place for a kid angel?” He teased.

Castiel glared at him.

Jack, however, ended up being an invaluable asset. Dean took his drink and began asking around with Sam and Cas, but the employees picked up on their tactics fast and stopped talking to them.

“Man, do we really look like feds?” Dean complained. “We’re wearing flannel!”

“Can’t blame them for protecting one of their own,” Sam sighed. “And you do look like the authoritarian type.”

“Jack...” Castiel muttered in realization.

Sam and Dean looked over to Jack, who was sitting at a booth with three gorgeous girls all laughing at his every word. Jack seemed pleased with himself.

Castiel groaned. “I’m a horrible father.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a smile.

Sam had opened his mouth to say something to the contrary, but then they heard Jack distantly mention that he really liked tattoos. Sam, Dean, and Cas stared as the girls began suggesting they go get ‘Sasha’. The trio rushed over to Jack at once. But before any of the girls could leave to fetch their friend, Dean saw a woman with long, dark hair out of the corner of his eye. She was talking to one of the bouncers near the platforms. Dean nearly tripped over a chair. 

“There she is... Hey! Sasha!” 

Sam and Castiel turned around to look. The girl called Sasha glanced at him.

“Hold up.” Dean pushed his way through the crowd to get to her, but a bouncer with a beard appeared and grabbed Dean’s arm.

“Alright, let’s go, buddy.”

“Hey! That’s my brother,” Sam shouted.

Castiel looked torn. Jack and the girls were alarmed. Dean was about to be kicked out, and Sasha was watching shrewdly. In a fit of desperation, Sam flashed her his tattoo and gave her a pleading look. He saw her expression open up. She said something to the bouncer beside her and walked towards the commotion.

“It’s fine, Gus. I know them.” She said. Her voice was smokey and she had a fluttery Mediterranean accent.

Gus reluctantly let Dean go then began shooing off the crowd that had begun to gather. In a few seconds, normalcy had resumed. Sasha, who was now wearing a silky kimono jacket over her outfit, was looking from one to the other with a curious expression on her face. She was nearly as tall as Dean in heels. Dean was reminded of the Amazons.

“Come. Sit.” She beckoned them to Jack’s booth and asked the girls to give them some privacy. 

The boys took their seats and sat down.

“So. Hunters? Not very smooth.” A slight smile played across her lips, although her expression was still shrewd. “What do you want?”

“We’re looking for something,” Sam said at once. “We were told you could help us.”

“You were told? By who?”

Sam glanced around and lowered his voice. “Crowley.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

“We need to find something that’s been imported here, from Italy,” Castiel explained. “It might have Enochian runes on it.”

Sasha listened.

“We don’t know where it could be or even what it looks like,” Sam said, “but we need to find it before anyone else does.”

“Hmm.” She studied him. “What does this object do?”

Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack exchanged looks.

Dean leaned forward. “Trust me, sweetheart, you don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”

“It expels angels from their vessels,” Sam said.

Dean stared at him, incredulous.

Sam took a deep breath. “We think it does, anyway. It might have other powers, as well. We’re not sure. But if you’re a hunter, then you know something like that belongs in our hands.”

Sasha eyed Sam. He thought he saw her smile. “Yet, you are travelling with two angels yourself.”

“How did you know?” Jack asked.

“Your tattoo is not as useful as mine, I am afraid,” she said, eying Sam and Dean. “It is Old Religion. Hellenism and Druidic magic. It lets me know when there are demons, and angels, nearby.” She looked to Castiel and Jack. “Although the young one is something I’ve never encountered before.”

“Oh, well, he’s a nephilim,” Dean said, “Since we’re apparently telling you everything.” 

Sam ignored him. “Look, we’re the good guys. We just want this thing off the playing field.”

“So you intend to destroy it?” She asked.

Dean and Castiel both looked expectantly at Sam.

“No,” Sam cleared his throat, “But we know a place where it’ll be safe. An old bunker. It’s warded against everything. We’ll keep it there.”

She took a moment to consider this, then asked, “Who are you?”

“My name is Sam Winchester. That’s my brother, Dean, and our friends Castiel, and Jack.”

“Winchester…” she repeated. “Like the rifle?”

“Yup,” Dean said, finishing his drink.

She looked at them all skeptically, but after a moment she seemed to decide they were telling the truth. “Well, that explains the angels.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

She looked at him in surprise. “Well there’s only about a hundred books about you written.”

Dean groaned, “Oh no…”

“Books?” Jack asked, confused. “There are books about you?” He looked to Castiel in surprise.

Castiel’s eyes widened subtly.

“You are all famous, especially in Italy,” she went on, “Although I must admit I did not think that you were real. Just legends hunters tell each other. Exaggerations.”

Jack’s face shone in amazement, staring reverently at Castiel. Dean could tell Castiel was uncomfortably wondering how much those books actually told. Dean licked his hips, hiding a smirk.

“So you uh… you read those books?” Sam asked awkwardly.

“Yes.” She had that almost-smile on her face again. “I have a few in my dressing room as a matter of fact.”

“So will you help us?” Castiel cleared his throat. “Crowley said you owed him a favor.”

She tilted her head dangerously. “Crowley is the one who owes me a favor. You can tell him that from me.”

Sam sighed. Dean looked unsurprised.

“But I will help you.” She said at last. “I believe you. And I think I know who will have this artifact, if it is indeed in N’Orleans.”

Castiel looked relieved. “Thank you, Sasha.”

“Oh...that is not my name,” she said. “My real name is Cassandra. You can call me Cass.”

Sam, Dean, and Jack glanced at Castiel.

“And tell Crowley to screw himself,” she added thoughtfully.

Dean grinned.

They began to share information and plan their attack, sheltered in the semi-privacy of the dimly lit booth. It turned out a strip club was the perfect place to come up with a secret plan—No one paid them any attention or could even hear what they were saying unless they were in the booth with them.   
  
They learned that New Orleans was a deeply magical city where hunters like Cass often worked alongside civilians who dabbled openly in the occult. It was a hotspot for international trade in magic of all kinds, and there were indeed a few shipping docks reserved just for that. They were all owned by a man named Emile, a man Cass assured them was to be trusted no more than any demon or hellspawn. He was human, but he dealt in dangerous goods and liked doing business with monsters more than people. Cass kept most monsters out of New Orleans, but Emile was one she’d never been able to rid the city of completely.

“So how’s that work, huh?” Dean finally asked. “Hunter by day, stripper by night?”

Sam glared at him.

Cass was quite unabashed, however. “If you were a demon, where would you go first in a city?” 

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but closed it. Sam, Dean, and Castiel were all thinking the same thing—Dean had in fact been a demon, and the first place he’d gone was, in fact, a strip club.

Sam chuckled.

Cass lifted one shoulder in a shrug and smiled. “You have your hunting methods, I have mine. Besides, it beats credit card scams. And I have friends here who watch my back and don’t ask questions.”

Dean looked like he was briefly considering becoming a hunter-stripper.

“Alright, so how do we find Emile?” Castiel asked.

“A few demons arrived in the city this morning,” Cass said. “If you find them, you will find Emile, and hopefully your artifact.”

Cass left briefly to get some things for them from her dressing room. While she was gone, Dean spoke up.

“So, do we trust her?”

Sam and Cas exchanged looks.

“I didn’t sense she was lying,” Castiel said.

“Me neither,” Jack agreed.

Dean nodded. “Alright. How is this going to work then?”

Sam eyed him questioningly.

Dean turned to Cas. “Can one of you be Cas and the other Cass? Like, with two ‘s’s?”

Sam scoffed. “Dean, how are you going to pronounce two s’s?”

Dean made an attempt but just sounded like a punctured balloon.

“Besides I thought Cas was Cass.” 

“Really? I thought he was Cas.”

“Well, the books say…”

Castiel and Jack looked at each other as Sam and Dean began to argue.

Jack whispered, “Why are they just repeating your name?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel sighed.

Sam and Dean stopped bickering when Cass reappeared. She put a shiny black gym bag on the table and slid into the booth beside Sam. Sam flushed slightly, making Dean smirk. The kimono didn’t cover her completely.

“I have demon traps all over town, they send me information via an app,” she explained to Sam, “Let me give it to you.”

Sam looked at her in alarm. “What? Oh… right.” He fished his phone out of his pocket.

Dean rolled his eyes. He went to get a refill while the nerds talked. Jack asked him for a whiskey, too, but Castiel shot him down. Still, when Dean returned he was carrying two drinks. He sat down, listening vaguely to Cass explain how to use the app. Castiel glared at Dean as Dean passed Jack one of his drinks 

“Relax, ‘dad’. It’s a kiddie cocktail,” Dean said.

Jack sipped it happily. Castiel eyed Dean, and Dean could have sworn he was smiling. Dean resisted the urge to wink at him and instead turned his attention to Cass and Sam.

“So, this will tell you if a demon has triggered any of my traps in town,” she finished.

Sam examined the app for a moment, then asked, “You made this?”

“Yes. It is just a geolocation API.”

Sam stared at her. Dean smirked.

“Well, I should get back to work.” She said finally, sliding back out of the booth and standing up. “Oh, and I left a few books in the bag, too, in case you were interested.”

Jack reached for the bag but Dean and Castiel both stopped him. 

“Thanks,” Sam said.

“Wait,” Castiel stopped her, “what if the demons don’t set off any traps? We need to find one as soon as possible.”

“You could use ‘Christo’,” She offered, beginning to walk back towards the stage. When the boys looked puzzled, she said, “You know, that thing you did in the first book then suddenly stopped using?” She gestured to her bag, smirking at them.

They looked at each other. Sam shook his head and smiled, taking the bag she’d left them. 

They sat huddled together forming a plan for a few minutes longer while the loud music provided the perfect cover. 

At last Sam said, “Alright, let’s get going. We’ll spread out around the traps, and if any of them go off then at least one of us will be close by.”

“Yeah, but...” Dean interrupted. “Remember what she said? Where’s the first place a demon would go? One of us should stay here.”

Sam stared at him.

Dean’s lips twitched. “You stay. I’ll go with Cas and Jack.” He got up and finished his drink in one gulp. 

“Dean, no, I…”

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Dean patted his shoulder.

But before the trio could leave, the group found itself in a hazy green spotlight. Sam looked up in alarm. The crowd began catcalling around him as ‘Sasha’ pointed Sam out of the crowd and gestured for him to come up to the chair on the stage. The crowd wolf-whistled, Dean included.

Sam gave him a deadly serious look, but Dean pushed him towards the stage. Castiel covered Jack’s eyes again.

People made room for Sam as he walked uncertainly up to the stage. He towered over those closest, and Cass held out a hand to help him up. Sam considered just refusing, but in half a second he found himself in the bright, colored lights and in front of Cass, who looked either like an angel or demon, he wasn’t sure. She was surprisingly tall, even in heels. She backed him into the chair and Sam heard the crowd whoop. Sam’s heart leapt as Cass slid over his lap in time with the music, black satin on rough bluejeans, but it didn’t take long for Sam to understand what was really going on. 

Cass leaned in and whispered, “One just walked in.”

Sam looked at her in alarm, but she swung her hair around to hide his expression from the crowd. 

“Act natural. He is wearing the grey vest. Look.”

As she danced to the music, Sam’s eyes slid hazily to the crowd. He saw Dean’s head, then made out a man in the grey vest walking towards the stage. He looked like an average, middle-aged businessman. Sam’s eyes then fell on Cass’s tattoo.

“There is a back door behind those curtains, near the stairs,” she whispered to him again, “The alarm is just for show. Take him out that way. No one will notice.”

It was hard to concentrate with Cass so close to him, hovering over his lap. Sam didn’t know what to do with his hands. He resolutely dragged his eyes back to hers and nodded subtly.

Cass smiled, and Sam could tell it wasn’t a stage smile. “Go get him. And good luck.” She stood up as the song ended and winked at him.

Sam felt nailed to the chair, but he stood up, ignoring the crowd cheering raunchily as he hopped off the stage.

Dean was waiting for him with an indecently smug look on his face. He slapped Sam’s shoulder.

“I knew she liked you! You nerds…”

“Dean, there’s a demon here,” Sam cut him off.

Castiel and Dean both looked at him.

“Who is it?” Jack asked.

Sam glanced subtly at the man in the vest then muttered, “Follow my lead.”

Dean, Castiel, and Jack followed Sam without question. Dean pretended like he didn’t see Sam quickly adjust his jeans. 

Sam led the others to the spot where the demon was attempting to stand and watch Sasha, appearing to innocently block him and herd him towards the back door. The door was as black as the walls and hard to notice, half-hidden by curtains, but Dean spotted it. Before the demon could take a sip of his drink, Sam had grabbed him. Dean got the door and, with Castiel and Jack’s help, the five out of them were outside in the rapidly cooling dusk air before anyone had noticed. 

Their eardrums pounded in the silence, which was broken swiftly by the demon’s shouts of protest.

Sam threw the demon against a wall and muttered, “Christo.”

The man convulsed and his eyes flashed black. He sneered at the group now surrounding him with their weapons drawn. “Winchesters.”

“Yup,” Dean said, then hit the demon over the butt with his gun.

The man slumped on the ground in an instant. Sam looked around at the group as if surprised that had gone so well.

“I’ll pull the car around,” Dean said, then sneaked around the building and out of sight.

Dean drove the Impala around the back of the strip club and they got the demon into the backseat. Castiel and Jack sat on either side of him. Once Sam was in the passenger’s seat, Dean sped off.

As they approached the interstate, Sam splashed holy water on the demon. He woke, sputtering and coughing. He didn’t seem happy to find himself wedged between Cas, who was scowling dangerously, and Jack, who was smiling, which was almost more disconcerting.

“Hi!”

The demon glared at Jack. “You Winchesters are dead.”

“Not today,” Dean said coolly. “Where’s Emile?”

The demon didn’t take long to break, not with a nephilim and an angel on either side of him. Jack was steadily gaining control over his powers, and he was able to put the demon into fits of agony just by concentrating. Once the demon was screaming and promising to tell them anything they wanted, Castiel stopped Jack.

“Enough,” Castiel said. For a brief second, he thought he saw Dean glance back at Jack. Castiel’s eyes flicked dangerously to the demon. “Where is Emile?”

“The docks, port eight,” the demon panted, “He’s meeting people there now.”

“People?” Sam repeated.

“Demons,” he growled.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Jack’s eyes glowed yellow and the man screamed.

“Jack!” Castiel stopped him.

“If you’re after that cup, you’re too late!” The demon gasped. “Emile got it this morning.”

“What cup?” Dean asked coldly.

“The angel cup… the… the chalice. It’s a weapon. Only works against angels.”

“How do you know?” Sam asked.

“Rumors. Lots of rumors,” he said, grateful for the break, “Exorcises them, I think. Hasn’t been seen in centuries. Emile’s gonna study it, find out what makes it tick. I can see why you want it, though.” He sneered at Jack.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked warningly.

“You’ve got a rabid dog over here! An unnatural whelp! You’d better put him down bef…”

There was a flash and then a scream. Dean slammed on the breaks and Sam twisted around in his seat. Castiel had grabbed the demon’s face, and in the next second the demon was dead, his eye sockets charred and hollow. Jack looked at Castiel questioningly.

“Great, Cas,” Dean said, speeding up again as cars around him honked, “Just great. Now we have no leverage.”

Castiel turned to Dean, anger still burning in his eyes. “Someone like Emile won’t care about the life of one demon.”

Dean didn’t respond. This was more than likely true.

“Cas, you okay?” Sam asked.

Castiel knew he was talking about his grace. “I’m fine,” he said tersely, and they spent the rest of the ride in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

The Impala made its way back through New Orleans and down a shady path to the docks. The sky was steely grey and they could hear distant thunder. The heat was gone, replaced by a cool but humid breeze. Jack and Castiel sat silently in the back with the demon's deceased vessel between them. 

There were no guards when they got to the security booth, so Sam hopped out and lifted the gate for them. They drove through the storage yard lined with freight containers and parked in the shadow of a brick warehouse. They could hear the sea slamming the docked ships into the piers.

Dean was the first one out of the car, followed by Castiel. Sam knew at once that something was wrong. He got out just in time to see Castiel grab hold of Dean. Dean turned in surprise and found Castiel pinning him against the brick wall.

“Cas, what the hell?”

Close up, Cas didn’t look angry. He looked scared.   
  
Jack had gotten out of the car too, but Sam decided in a split second to keep him away from the scene and wait.

“Are you planning on using this artifact against Jack?” Castiel demanded, his voice low.

Dean stared at Castiel indignantly.

“Are you?” Castiel insisted.

“No, Cas!” Dean said hotly. “Alright?”

Castiel didn’t look convinced, but he let Dean go nevertheless. He gave him a long, searching look, then swept away towards Sam and Jack. Dean’s expression was inscrutable.

Jack looked quellingly at Castiel, but Castiel gave him a calming look. Sam looked at Dean but Dean ignored him.

Despite Castiels’ outburst, the severity of what they had to do put everyone into a state of united focus. They sneaked around the side of the brick warehouse and saw the long transport docks ahead. A few colossal ships were docked there for the night, seemingly unoccupied. Quay cranes hovered over shipping containers like enormous steel birds, their heads dipping into the stormy sky. The sea was slapping noisily against the concrete piers in the distance and spraying salt into the air. Sam didn’t need the pat on the shoulder to spot a group of men standing near a small warehouse. One of them was well dressed and had a long, haughty face. 

Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack shared silent looks then crept single-file through the shadows. The conversation ahead gradually grew louder.

“...all taken care of.”

“Good,” said the haughty man, “spread the word. I won’t part with something this valuable for under fifty. Not a penny or euro or soul under.”

“Sir, what about Marcus? He still hasn’t arrived. Should we go look for him?”

“Marcus?” Dean’s voice boomed over the sound of the sea.

The group of men spun around. Dean strode out from behind the warehouse with his gun at the ready. He was alone. 

“You mean the greasy-haired guy at the strip club? Yeah, I took care of him already. His body’s in my car, why don’t you go check?”

The group stared at him in surprise, but the three men surrounding Emile were quick to recover. They drew their guns.

“And who are you?” Emile asked. He didn’t look afraid, but rather amused.

“Just the guy who’s gonna kick your ass.”

Emile smiled silkily. “You’re outnumbered here, bub. Walk away now.”

Dean pretended to consider his suggestion, then said, “Can’t do that. See, you’ve got a nuke in your pocket, and I can’t let you keep it.”

The men cocked their guns, but Emile tutted at them. “So, word’s already spread? Excellent. Well, if you want the artifact that badly, perhaps you can... bid on it?” He gave Dean’s appearance an insultingly skeptical look. “I’m afraid you really have no other options. Like I said. Outnumbered.”

Dean’s smirk didn’t waver. “Like I said, I’m gonna kick your ass. Christo.”

Emile gave him an odd look, but was startled to see his three men spasm. As if on cue, three gunshots rang out of the growing shadows. Two of the demons hit the ground, pools of blood blossoming from their heads, but the third demon had moved just in time and the bullet merely grazed his shoulder. 

Caught off guard, Emile and the remaining demon both turned around as Sam, Castiel, and Jack rushed them. Dean aimed a shot at Emile, but Emile threw his arm out. Sam heard a few frenzied words of a spell and felt his own body leave the ground. He, Castiel, and Dean were thrown by the spell. Only Jack remained standing.

Emile stood face to face with Jack, eying him with a mixture of annoyance and deep interest. Jack’s eyes glowed gold and the remaining demon suddenly vomited black smoke. He fell to the ground, his vessel long dead. Jack glared at Emile, but found Emile smiling at him.

“What a treasure you are,” he laughed. It was a cold, calculating sound.

“Enough!” Castiel had gotten up first and was pointing a shotgun at Emile. “You’re surrounded. Hand over the artifact.”

Emile looked interestedly at the group of hunters getting to their feet. “Don’t tell me... Winchesters? And their angels?”

“You heard him,” Sam shouted, “Hand it over.”

Emile gave him a significant look. “You do know what this artifact does, don’t you? All of you?”

No one responded. Jack was looking to the others for some sign of what to do.

“We know enough,” Dean said.

“Oh, do you? I’ve had this artifact all day and its complexity is simply stunning.” He reached into his pocket.

“Hey! Slowly,” Sam warned.  
  
Emile slowly withdrew what looked to be a small, dirty, and very old cup. It looked absolutely mundane. The golden rings Emile wore on his hand outshined it easily as he touched the tiny etchings around the cup’s rim. It had two handles and looked only big enough for a single shot of whiskey, yet everyone’s eyes were drawn to it. The electricity from the nearing storm was nothing compared to the unseeable energy reverberating from the cup.

“Now give it here,” Castiel held out his hand, being closest to Emile.

“Il Calice di Nerulum,” Emile said reverently, ignoring him. "Do you know, it’s said it can force angels from their vessels?”

“We heard,” Castiel muttered.

“See, I was contemplating how to test the cup properly. Couldn’t figure it out. But it seems the stars have aligned. The Winchesters have hand-delivered me two, very special angels.”

Jack suddenly noticed Sam looking at him over Emile’s shoulder. Jack thought he understood. He readied himself.

“I already tested it on one angel this morning. You might have known her. Turiel?”

Castiel blanched.

Emiel chuckled. “Even at full grace, she couldn’t stay inside her body. The cup made it uninhabitable. The girl she left behind was shocked, to say the least. And Turiel? Well, her grace became so unstable, she was almost human. It was like shooting two fish in a barrel.”

“Cas, don’t!” Dean had shouted, but it was too late.

Castiel fired. Jack’s eyes glowed. But Emile had touched an etching on the cup just in time and both Castiel and Jack were punched backward. Sam and Dean lunged at Emile, but more gunshots began to echo off the concrete warehouses and the scene descended into chaos. Sam gasped and hit the ground just as Dean saw more demons were emerging from the docked ship. Emile was laughing. Castiel and Jack were on the ground.

“Sammy!” Dean fell to his knees and saw blood blooming around Sam. He’d been shot in the back of the shoulder, but the angle looked dangerous. Sam had turned white. 

“I’ll kill you!” Dean pointed his gun at Emile and fired.

But in the chaos of the moment, he missed.

Five more demons surrounded them. Castiel and Jack were picking themselves back up.

“Now,” Emile said patiently, “time to test the Nerulum Chalice on an angel with no grace, and a nephilim with grace mixed with a human soul. I can’t wait to see the results. Say goodbye to your angels, boys.” He turned the cup in one hand. Dean lined up a second shot, but it was too late. Emile had touched another etching before Dean could fire.

A blinding light turned the purple and pink sky bright white. Dusk had vanished, as did the demonic figures surrounding Sam and Dean. When the light faded, they realized what they had witnessed. Castiel’s lifeless vessel was staring up at the stormy sky. He’d been exorcised. 

“No!” Dean shouted.

Sam’s eyes flew helplessly to Jack’s body, which was mercifully still moving. Jack heaved and gasped on the ground. Sam’s heart leaped.

“How fascinating!” Emile cheered.

Two demons flanked Sam and Dean. The other three were picking Jack up and making him stand. He looked as white as Sam and he was staring in despair at Castiel’s body.

Emile studied him, then said flatly. “Take the nephilim and the uninjured Winchester. Bring them to the basement. Kill the other one where he lies.”

Dean had been ready for this. The two demons grabbed him and Dean shot one in the face. The demon stumbled back. Sam tried to help but gasped in pain. Dean couldn’t get him up. Sam could feel his insides torn up in the path of the bullet. The other demon struck Dean with the back of his gun and Dean fell unconscious.

“No, no!” Sam fought back, but the demon had already begun to drag Dean away. The one Dean had shot remained with Sam, kicking him back down into the pool of his own blood. Sam’s vision pulsed with pain.

Emile nodded at the faceless demon. “Meet us downstairs when you’re done.”


	5. Chapter 5

The smell of stormy air and salty sea roused Dean. He could hear waves crashing against the docks in the distance and realized at once where he must be. He was below sea level, in an old, unused brick building on the shore near the docks. He was being half dragged, half carried down a cold, dimly lit brick hallway. He could see the backs of Jack’s sneakers as Jack was shoved ahead of him. Dean’s head was throbbing. Then he remembered the image of Sam, shot and bleeding on the ground. It hit him like physical pain and Dean groaned.

“Good morning sunshine,” Emile’s voice raised the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck. “You sure rouse quickly.”

“Where’s my brother?” Dean slurred.

“Already dead,” Emile said flatly, “No use crying over it. You’ll be with him soon.”

A numbing rage coursed through Dean’s veins. It felt like walking into a nightmare. “And Cas?” His voice was dangerously tight.

Emile chuckled.

They arrived in a damp, dimly lit room with a few cells built on either side. A high, long window cast an evening glow on the mossy brick. The bars looked new. The demons threw Dean and Jack inside and Emile locked them in, muttering something that sounded like a spell over the bolt lock.

Then Emile pulled up a crate and sat down on it, looking Dean and Jack in satisfaction. Dean hadn’t felt hatred so intense in a long time. He’d forgotten how badly it burned, dissolving his insides like acid and blurring out the pain in his head.

“I removed Cas from his vessel, obviously,” Emile explained, “With him being nearly graceless, I’m guessing it killed him. My true interest was in you.” He looked at Jack.

Jack was huddled against the wall, looking bewildered and hurt. Dean knew what must have happened to him, and he had a sudden urge to protect him. He stood between Jack and Emile, ignoring the pounding in his head and his heart.

“What would happen to a half-human half-angel if I exorcised it?” Emile mused. “Would half of you leave? Would the separation damage you? Tell me, how do you feel Jack?”

Jack glared at Emile but didn’t answer.

“What a fascinating insight into the human condition. Are you human now? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He asked curiously. “Would you know if you’re dying?”

Dean walked up to the bars slowly, eying Emile with revulsion. He knelt down so they were at eye level and muttered, “You didn’t kill Cas. He’s out there somewhere. He’ll find another vessel and he will hunt you down.” Dean said it with such conviction that Jack looked hopeful, but Emile was staring at Dean with cruel disbelief and it was all Dean could do to keep it from reflecting it on his own face.

“Could be,” Emile guessed. “It would certainly make this artifact more valuable. Such varied effects. The human soul, and angelic grace, are woefully unstudied topics. But, alas, I’m afraid your time will be up long before Castiel could even hope to find another vessel, if he is indeed alive.”

Dean could hear the rain approaching from over the sea. Large droplets were beginning to spatter the roof of the building.

“See, there’s a reason why this storage facility isn’t used anymore. It may seem dry and cozy now, but the levees broke years ago. Now the entire basement floods during even the slightest storm.”

A dark silence passed between Dean and Emile. They eyed each other, neither speaking.

“You’d better hope I drown,” Dean growled.

Emile’s smile was colder than ever. “I do.” He stood up and beckoned for the demons to follow. “Now, Jack, if you survive, that means the artifact didn’t render you completely graceless. If that’s the case, come find me, won’t you? I’d love to do more tests.”

His voice trailed away with their footsteps, leaving Dean and Jack in silence. Thunder broke over them as a torrent of rain began to move over the building. Dean could see the ground outside erupting with raindrops. He slumped onto a bench and rubbed his palms into his eyes. All he saw was the pool of blood under Sam’s shoulder and the look of fear in Castiel’s eyes as he threw Dean against the building. Guilt began festering in Dean’s gut—a horrible, painful guilt. 

When he looked back up, he was surprised to see Jack looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah?” Dean asked groggily.

“So, how are we getting out of here and saving Cas and Sam?”

Despite being worn and frayed from the artifact, Jack looked so determined that it made Dean’s heart sink even lower. The guilt in him churned like a living monster as he looked into Jack’s human face. “We’re not.”

Jack squinted at him. It reminded him of Cas. Dean looked away. “But, he said this building will flood. We can’t just wait here.”

“Well if you feel like flapping your wings and busting us out of here, let me know.”

Jack looked at him stubbornly and Dean’s guilt burned. 

Dean sighed. “Kid, what I said about Cas…” he forced himself to look Jack in the face, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Jack didn’t need him to. He frowned. “Don’t. He’s not... And neither is Sam.”

Dean suddenly felt sick. He wished the storm would hurry up and drown them already.

When Dean didn’t respond, Jack stood up and began inspecting the cell. Dean had a feeling he knew what he was doing.

“Emile said he didn’t know what the artifact would do to Castiel, or myself. He was wrong about me, so he could have been wrong about Cas, too.” Jack had found a broken piece of metal pipe jutting from the wall and began prizing it out. “He said that other angel, Turiel, had all of her grace when the artifact expelled her, and it made her grace unstable. Remember? Well, Castiel was low on grace when he was expelled, so maybe it’ll do the opposite.”

The pipe was too stuck in the wall, and Jack soon gave up and began inspecting the lock instead.

“That’s a nice thought, but…” Dean didn’t have the heart to finish. 

Jack knew he didn’t believe him. Jack looked over and saw rainwater dripping down from the window. He thought the sea sounded closer, too.

“Dean? Do you hear something?”

“It’s just thunder. You know, angels bowling.” Dean said, suddenly finding the phrase deeply ironic.

“I… what?” Jack asked curiously. “Bowling? In Heaven?”

Dean almost smiled. He knew he’d have to have a heart-to-heart talk with Jack at some point before they died, but at the moment it was easier to explain this idiom. He opened his mouth to explain, but then he heard something that definitely wasn’t thunder. It sounded like a shout. Dean stood up at once. Jack looked at him in alarm. The floor was wet now, and the water sprayed their jeans as Dean crossed the cell. It sounded like something was going on at the top of the stairs.

“Jack, stay back.”

“No, I can fight!”

“No!” Dean rounded on him.

Jack was determined to the point of defiance, and it reminded Dean so suddenly and so powerfully of teenage Sammy that Dean felt something catch in his throat and all of his anger faded.

“I’m not useless, Dean,” Jack said, “Just because I… I’ve got no powers…”

“I know,” Dean nodded numbly, “but… that’s not what I meant.”

Jack eyed him.

“Jack, I know… I know I give you a hard time. But... I’ve just lost everyone. And I can’t lose you, too. Please, let me keep you safe.”

Jack’s defiance softened at those words. He felt something swell in him, something that felt oddly like angel grace. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”

Dean nodded to himself. “Just, stay behind me. If someone opens the cell, I’ll keep it open. You run. You run and find Cas, you save Sammy, you do whatever you need to do to stay alive. Understand?”

Jack’s eyebrows came together, but he nodded unquestioningly. “Okay.”

Dean smiled at him. As painful as it was to move those muscles, the smile seemed to heal a small part of Dean and he was able to ready himself for the impending fight.

A splintering crack meant the door to the stairway had broken. Footsteps began running down the stairs. Dean stood in front of Jack, ready to fight to the death. The footsteps landed in the water and halted. Then, a voice shouted.

“Dean!”

Dean’s heart flew into his throat.

“Sammy?”

Jack came up to the bars at once.

Sam came sloshing into the room a second later. He was sprayed with blood and looked shell-shocked, but he wasn’t pale anymore. Dean went weak with relief. Jack beamed at him.

“Sam!”

Sam rushed over to them. “We gotta get you guys out of here. Emile fled. C’mon.” He tried picking the lock but the magic prevented him.

“Sam, he did a spell,” Dean said quickly, “You can’t open it like that.”

“Dammit. I don’t have Rowena’s book,” Sam looked around the room at the rising water. “Okay, okay, Cas can do it. Just hold on.”

“Cas?” Dean asked.

Sam seemed too speechless to confirm.

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. “Sam, are you okay? What’s happening?”

Sam opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Suddenly a body flew down the stairs and landed in the slowly rising seawater. Sam looked at Dean and gave him a brief, alarmed smile. Dean stared at him, bemused.

“Cas, he uh… he has his grace back. A lot of it. And, um… well he took the closest vessel he could find...”

Jack looked expectantly at the stairs. Footsteps began descending, but they didn’t sound like Castiel’s. For a moment Dean thought Sam had been talking about the other Cas—Cass. But then a very small figure stepped into the water and looked around at them. Dean and Jack stared wordlessly.

A small Chinese girl, no older than nine, emerged blood splattered from battle. Her shiny black hair was in two long braids and she wore a denim jacket. Dean had never seen a child look so commanding.

“C...Cas?” Dean gawked.

The girl strode over to the bars. The water was nearly up to her waist.

“It’s magic, Cas,” Sam said shakily. “Can you break it?”

“Stand back,” came the girl’s jarringly high voice.

Dean urged Jack back and Sam backed up against the opposite wall. The child’s eyes lit up and a burst of light struck the lock, breaking it and the magic. The pieces flew apart as if they’d been struck with a hammer and the door to the cell flew open, splashing the walls.

Dean stared at Castiel, a flood of words he wanted to say filling his head, yet the dire reality of the moment was amplified by the strangeness of Castiel’s vessel and Dean was unable to speak.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Sam helped Dean and Jack out of the cell and together they followed Castiel up the stairs and into the storm. 

Dean kept staring from Castiel to Sam. Sam looked like he either wanted to laugh or throw up. Jack was elated.

“We hid Cas’s vessel in a shipping crate,” Sam panted. “We need the artifact to fix Jack, then Jack can fix Cas’s vessel. That’s the plan anyway. Are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Dean said.

They dashed around a large warehouse and spotted the Impala parked in the rain, a halo of dancing water around it. They were drenched by the time they reached it. Cas threw Marcus’s dead body out of the car with the force of a bull and let Jack in first. Before Cas entered the car he paused to look at Dean.

Dean paused, too, staring uncertainly at the little girl who, in that moment, looked exactly like Castiel.

“Dean…”

“Cas…” Dean said, “Save it, okay? We’re good.”

The girl nodded tersely, then they both got into the car.


	6. Chapter 6

The sky above New Orleans seemed to have opened up and was sending torrents of dark rain onto the city streets. Impala was once again roaring through the city. It was a while before anyone in the car had the strength to speak. It was a credit to their close call that Dean didn’t complain once about the state of Baby’s interior. They were all drenched with rain and covered in blood. 

Castiel was the first to speak. “Are you two hurt?” The girl’s unfamiliar voice made everyone jump.

“No, we’re fine,” Jack put on a brave smile.

Castiel frowned at him, the little girl’s delicate face contracted with angelic concern. He put a hand to Jack’s forehead, who had to bend a little for Castiel to reach.

“Sam, you got shot,” Dean remembered.

“Cas already healed me, I’m fine,” he explained.

“Good,” Dean grunted, relief filling him like oxygen. “Do we have a lead on Emile?”

Sam suddenly shifted around and pulled out his phone. “Oh right, I was going to text Cass.” Sam did a double-take when he caught Dean smirking.

“You got the stripper’s number,” he chuckled under his breath. The realization that all four of them were back in the Impala alive and relatively unharmed had finally sunk in, and Dean couldn’t help but find everything amusing.

“Shut up,” Sam muttered.

Dean smiled fondly, then hollered into the backseat, “How’s Jack looking, Cas?”

Jack looked at Castiel.

“Sideways,” Castiel replied. 

Dean rolled his eyes.

Cas had finally removed his hand and was giving Jack a searching look. “Jack, your grace is… well, if there’s any left I can’t find it.”

Jack considered this for a moment, then tried to smile again. “It’s okay, Cas, really. I’m fine.”

Sam and Dean glanced silently at each other. It was the same ‘I’m fine’ they’d heard out of each others’ mouths all too often.

Castiel sighed. “Right. Well, the artifact should be able to put you back together. And myself, I hope. It does seem to expel grace, but I wasn’t sent back to Heaven. I was just… pushed out. I couldn’t re-enter my body so I found the closest willing vessel. But it made my grace…”

“Unstable?” Jack offered.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Castiel nodded. “It’s powerful but it won’t last. I don’t know what will happen if it reverts to normal before I can return to my body.”

The question left a puncture in everyone’s momentary relief.

“But for now you’re the freaking Hulk,” Dean said. “I mean, in a tiny body.”

Castiel didn't know what to say to that, so he just resumed talking to Jack, “But your grace is different. You have a soul that your grace was attached to. Ripping those things apart, well, you’ll need some time to recover. If we can put you back...”

“If?” Sam asked.

“...when we put you back,” Castiel amended, “hopefully my grace will still be charged up and I can heal you.”

Sam and Dean weren't looking at each other, but they were both thinking the same thing—Their mission was sounding more and more impossible. They were all saved from further discussion by the sound of Sam’s phone buzzing. Dean eyed him slyly.

“Shut up,” Sam muttered again.

According to Cassandra, New Orleans was getting an unusual number of demonic visitors that night. She had her hands full in the Arts District, her friend Mary the Voodoo Queen was covering the French Quarter, so Sam and Dean hauled ass downtown to help. 

The closest trap, according to Sam’s new app, was in an alleyway behind a bar called Barrel Proof, so Dean found the closest parking spot he could. He was thrilled that they’d have to set up shop in a bar, until he stopped the car and both he and Sam realized they had two minors in the back seat. The rain pounded on the roof and streaked the windows in the silence.

Sam gave him a look and Dean held out a fist, miming ‘rock’.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked.

“Well,” Dean cleared his throat, “this is a bar. So one of us will have to go in while the others…”

“I am not waiting in the car,” Castiel said hotly. For a moment he actually sounded like a young girl. “I just saved all of you! I am going in with you!”

“Me too,” Jack said. “They let me into the strip club! I want to help!”

“Sam, help me out here,” Dean said.

“Sam,” Jack said imploringly.

Sam rubbed his temple.

In the ensuing argument, none of them noticed Castiel had stopped talking, at least until they heard the car door slam. Everyone went silent. Jack looked around. Sam suddenly turned in his seat.

“Son of a bitch!!” Dean swore.

Castiel had sneaked out of the car amid the bickering and gone into Barrel Proof without any of them.

“He won’t get far,” Sam said hopefully. “He doesn’t even have an ID.”

“Um, you mean one of these?” Jack gestured to a box full of fake badges under the driver’s seat where Castiel had been sitting.

Sam, Dean, and Jack looked at each other, then got out of the car.

The bar was dry, warm, and full of noise. It was a Saturday night and everyone was taking shelter from the storm. All the barstools were full, but Castiel was small enough to slip between two chatting women. He climbed up on the footbar so he could see over the counter and slammed his FBI badge down. The women around him stopped talking and stared at. The creole bartender did a double-take.

“Excuse me,” Castiel said in the strongest voice his child’s vessel could manage. It was surprisingly gruff. “I’m looking for a man named Emile. He’s about six-foot-one, dark hair…”

The bartender glanced at the bouncers by the door. They had their hands full with two apparently hotheaded men and a college-aged boy who looked slightly ill. The bartender sighed. They always got the crazy ones on Saturday night.

“No kids at the bar, sweetheart,” she said. “How’d you get in here anyway?”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply indignantly, but the men at the door had seemingly made their point and were let in by the bouncers to fetch their 'daughter'. They ran to the bar and the little girl was scooped up into the tallest man’s arms.

“Sorry! Sorry…” Sam apologized to everyone. “I uh…” he laughed nervously.

Castiel glared at him.

Dean spotted the badge on the bar with Sam’s face on it and grabbed it. “It’s Take-Your-Daughter-to-Work Day,” he lied swiftly, showing the badge to the bartender.

“You’re FBI?” She stared at Sam.

“Yeah, yeah we are,” Sam said, regaining his confidence in the lie.

“Huh. Okay, good. Cuz I’m too busy tonight to call child services,” she said, sweeping off to take an order down the bar.

Once the murmuring crowd looked away Dean whispered mutinously to Castiel, who was perched in Sam’s arms. “Are you crazy? If you’re gonna stay in that body then you gotta follow our lead!”

Sam nodded in agreement. Jack looked amused by the situation but mimed seriousness when Sam gave him a look. Castiel sighed.

“Sorry. Daddy.” She leaned over and kissed Dean on the cheek.

The two women at the bar who had still been watching hesitantly broke into smiles. They ‘aww’ed and finally turned back to their drinks.

Dean looked like he’d been turned to stone.

Sam bit back a smile. “Alright, well, c’mon. We can’t stay here,” he murmured.

“Are we going back to the strip club?” Castiel asked.

The crowd that had just recently let their attention fall away was suddenly staring at Sam and Dean again.

Sam, Dean, and Jack froze. Finally, Sam cleared his throat and murmured, “Like we said… uh, Take-Your-Daughter-to-Work-Day.” He gave Dean a fleeting glance.

Dean shot daggers at him.

“So that’s where you go at night...” Jack smirked at Dean.

“I want a divorce,” Dean glared at Sam, who was trying not to laugh.

Castiel opened his mouth to speak but Dean cut him off. “Unless the next word out of your mouth is ‘Christo’ I don’t wanna hear it!”

Castiel closed his mouth.

“Uh, guys?” Jack said quickly.

The three of them looked at Jack, who was eying a harassed looking man leaving the bar through the approaching bouncers. Jack looked suddenly severe, and Sam and Dean understood at once: _Christo_.

“Alright guys, time to go,” the bouncers were approaching them, but Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack rushed right past them and back into the rain swamped streets.

Sam put Castiel down and the four of them hurried into the alleyway to see where the man was going. He was headed down the alleyway, and right for the hidden devil’s trap.

The rain dripped on them from the catwalks as Sam and Jack ran ahead, leaving Dean and Castiel to sneak around from the other side of the building. The man noticed them at once and began to hurry, but they managed to herd him right into the devil’s trap. He realized his mistake and turned around in alarm to see the approaching hunters.

“Hey!” The man shouted as the foursome advanced on him from all sides, “Hey, no, wait…! I know who you are, and I’m totally not worth killing! Just an underling, I swear! I’m… I’m one of Crowley’s! I’m here to help!”

Sam sneered. “Crowley told me he sent his demons away from the city ten minutes ago. Anyone left is fair game.”

The demon blanched.

Dean glanced at Sam.

“Where are you headed?” Castiel demanded, “Where is Emile?”

“I’ll show you! I’ll show you. Just don’t kill me.”

Although Castiel no longer struck an imposing figure, he seemed to radiate power with his grace full to bursting.

“ _Tell us_.”

The demon swallowed.

Sensing that Castiel had the situation well under control, Sam and Dean stood back and let the angels do to the interrogating. The rain was somewhat abated by the catwalks and hangings above them, and they’d found a brick alcove to shelter in within seeing distance of the devil’s trap.

It was odd seeing Castiel doing the torturing. Lately, Castiel had become the human on Jack’s shoulder, letting Jack use his grace and mentoring him. Not to mention Castiel was currently a little girl, which made the whole thing unsettlingly funny.

“You know,” Dean said as he observed Castiel with his long, shiny braids and bright purple sneakers, “I had the feeling I’d be kicked out of a bar in New Orleans tonight, but this isn’t exactly how I pictured it.”

Sam smiled breathlessly. “Tell me about it.”

They both watched as Jack put a hand on Castiel. Castiel’s eyes, which had been glowing bright white, returned to their normal, deep brown.

“You know, he really is a good kid,” Sam said proudly. “He got his grace ripped out of him, got imprisoned, thought he lost his dad, and he hasn’t complained once. Hell, he’s looking out for Cas.”

If it weren’t for the torturing and the demonic screams, thankfully muted by the rain and the music from the club next door, it would’ve looked like a wholesome family scene—Jack and his presumably younger sister. Dean recognized the calm, determined look in Jack’s eye as the same look he had in the prison when he wouldn’t let Dean sit there and accept their deaths.

“Yeah, he is,” Dean said at last.

Sam looked at him.

“What?” Dean asked.

“So, you’re really not planning on using this thing against Jack?” Sam asked honestly.

“Sam, it was used on him,” Dean said. “And look at him, the kid’s hurt. No, I think it’s best if he keeps his grace. He needs it.” Dean stared at Sam. “ _What_?”

Sam was smiling. “Nothing.”

“Yeah right, ‘nothing’.” Dean looked away. “So… you going to meet up with Sasha after all of this?”

“What?” Sam flustered. “N...no, I mean, it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Hey, she’s a hunter. If she dies after sleeping with you she has a good chance of coming back.”

“That’s not funny,” Sam chuckled anyway.

“Or maybe… you’re already seeing someone,” Dean mused, putting on a subtle English accent.

Sam paused. “You’re… that’s just… that’s ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean smirked. Dean reveled in the awkward silence he’d caused as he watched the demon spilling information to Castiel.

“What about you?” Sam asked, who had regained his composure.

“What about me?”

“You know. You and Cas?”

Dean took his time answering, continuing to watch Cas and Jack. “Nah. I mean, maybe, but… Nah.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam said. He could tell it was the same kind of ‘nah’ he’d just given Dean.

“Shut up,” Dean muttered.

Sam smirked. “Sure thing, ‘Daddy’.”

“I will strangle you.”

Sam laughed.

Cas beckoned Sam and Dean over to them before Dean could make good on his threat. The demon was in rough shape, panting on the ground inside the trap.

“He said Emile will be at a club a few blocks east. He uses it as a safe house,” Castiel explained.

“Good work guys,” Dean smiled at Jack.

Jack, who had been looking sullen, smiled in surprise.

“Now...” Castiel reached out towards the demon.

The man flinched, but nothing happened. He opened his eyes and watched in shock as his wounds healed. “W...what are you doing?”

Castiel dropped his arm and Jack stepped forward.

“...get out of him, or I’ll kill you,” Jack said.

The demon scoffed. “You can’t…”

“I am a nephilim! The son of _Lucifer_! You have five seconds.”

“You...you can’t!”

“Five!”

“Wait…”

“Four!”

“Hang on! Wait!”

“Three!”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Even without his eyes glowing, Jack looked alarming. Castiel was standing back looking like the world’s smallest bouncer.

“Two!”

The man’s jaw fell open. Black smoke poured into the dark, damp sky, briefly illuminated by a streak of lightning.

Jack stole a grin at Castiel, who grinned back.

“Nice one,” Sam patted Jack’s shoulder proudly.

The man who now lay before them was barely conscious, but Sam and Dean managed to walk him down to the sidewalk and get him a cab. 

When they returned, Castiel and Jack were talking.

“Alright, good work you guys. Let’s go find the club,” Dean said.

“What’s wrong?” Sam interrupted. 

Dean looked at Jack, who he realized was trying and failing to look cheery. 

Jack's smiled faded. “It’s just… if you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of useless now. What am I going to do in a fight? Sneak up behind Emile and pick his pocket for the artifact?”

“Jack...” Castiel said consolingly, but Dean cut him off.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean said seriously. “You just saved someone, Jack. Without your powers, if you didn’t notice.” He looked severe for a moment, then gave Jack a small smile.

Jack stared at him.

“You’ll be useful,” Dean assured him. “Now let’s go get Emile so we can get your grace back to normal. Both of you.”

Sam glanced at Castiel, who was looking warmly at Dean. Sam smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

New Orleans had never seen a more unusual group of hunters prowling the alleyways. Sam, Dean, Jack, and the little girl Castiel was occupying, all disheveled and rain-soaked, made their way past the backs of bars and hotels until they saw an entrance to a hidden club. There was a neon sign above a black awning and a bouncer at the bottom of the steps checking IDs.

They hung back around the corner to plan their attack. There was no use in telling any of them to stay behind, so they all agreed that their priority would be to get the artifact and keep Castiel’s temporary vessel safe. If Emile got away, they could hunt him down another time.

“Now, how do we get in there?” Sam asked at last.

The four looked at each other expectantly. No one had a solution for this.

At last, Castiel spoke up. “I have an idea.” 

Before anyone could make him elaborate, Castiel ran towards the club, his vessel’s long hair beating against her small denim jacket. Sam, Dean, and Jack watched, dumbfounded, as he ran out into the open and darted past the bouncer before he could even register what the Hell a little girl was doing running at him in an alley. He jumped as if electrocuted, shouted, “Hey! Hey!”, then ran inside after her.

Sam, Dean, and Jack stared at each other in shock, then hurried towards the unguarded door.

The club was dark and loud. People were moving from the backlit bar to a dance floor beneath roving colored lights. It felt like being in a cave. It was an ominous place to look for demons, yet the perfect place to lose a child. The trio spotted the bouncer looking helplessly over the crowd, having lost Castiel in a sea of people At last, the man turned tail and went to speak with another bouncer inside.

“We don’t have much time,” Sam said. “Let’s find Emile.”

“Where’d Cas go?” Dean asked.

Unfortunately, they had as much luck finding Castiel as the bouncer, so they focused on finding Emile first. Jack was getting bumped into left and right, so Sam moved him between himself and Dean as they pushed their way through the crowd. Sam was unnerved to see how pale Jack looked under a passing emerald green light. Before they could even reach the bar, however, a bang echoed through the small club.

There was a brief moment when everyone thought the sound could have been coming from the speakers, but then someone screamed. Although the music continued, the atmosphere changed dramatically. People began fleeing the crowd in all directions, running blindly into those who hadn’t yet caught on. The bouncers abandoned their search for Castiel and began shouting for order. People slammed into Sam, Dean, and Jack, forcing them apart. Sam grabbed Jack just in time to save him from being pushed to the ground. Dean was hollering Castiel’s name. Even amidst the shouting cries and the still pounding music, Sam recognized the panic in Dean’s voice.

“Cas! Castiel!”

Another bang and the crowd screamed in earnest. Out of the chaos, the little girl emerged low in the crowd, her eyes aglow to force her way through.

“Dean! He’s there! Over there!” Castiel shouted.

Sam and Jack pushed their way towards Dean and Cas, but as the crowd thinned Sam began to notice a handful of people not moving. They stood like statues as frenzied civilians bounced off of them towards the door. One of the motionless people grabbed Castiel by the hair as a third gunshot rang out, this time close by.

Dean had pulled out his pistol and shot the man grabbing Castiel. The man stumbled backward and Castiel broke free. Dean grabbed him and picked him up effortlessly just as Sam and Jack reached them. 

All of the clubgoers had reached the door at last, leaving a scattered group of demons closing in on Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack. The man Dean had shot approached them, his eyes black. At last, the music died, and their ears ring in the silence. The club was trashed and they were surrounded by demons.

“You all just can’t leave well enough alone,” Emile's voice rang through the stiflingly silent club. He walked in through a back door, his dress shoes clicking on the floor.

"Oh..." Jack suddenly spoke, as if remembering something. “I survived. You told me to tell you if I had.”

Emile stared at him.

“And you’re going to wish he hadn’t,” Dean said.

Emile raised his arms mockingly, gesturing to the demons. “You’re outnumbered! You should’ve quit while you were ahead. Taken that gas guzzler back home to Kansas and called it a day.” Emile’s haughty smile was gone. He seemed unnerved and angry.

Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack grouped closer together, readying for a fight. Dean didn’t realize he was still holding Cas. Sam was shielding Jack.

Emile was done playing. He frowned at the group then muttered to his demons, “Kill ‘em.”

The demons lunged. Sam met one of them right away and threw him to the ground. Dean shot one in the chest. For a moment Dean thought he’d been grabbed from the side, but it was Castiel trying to get down.

“Dean!”

“Sorry!” 

The fight turned deadly right in seconds. Sam stabbed a demon with the knife, dropping him. Dean downed one with the angel blade. Jack was holding up alright, but it only took one hit for him to fall back against Sam and Dean, spitting blood. There were too many. They weren't strong enough. Sam and Dean could both feel the fight going south, fast. Dean got punched, hard, and Sam's forearm was slashed from a blade. They were going to be killed.

Without warning, a burst of light filled the room. They heard a faint ringing and countless bottles shatter like fireworks, then several bodies hit the floor. When the light faded, they saw Castiel levitating off the ground with grace. The little girl’s hair was floating behind her and her eyes were aglow. With a jolt of fear, Dean was reminded of Lilith.

The demons who had survived the blast of grace groaned and tried to stand. Castiel handed his angel blade to Jack, like the passing of a sword, then rounded on the remaining demons. The little girl grabbed the first demon who got up, yanked him to the ground, and punched him in the face. Sam, Dean, and Jack watched as demon after demon was taken down by sixty pounds of angelic fury. For a moment they forget they had weapons. Sam suddenly nudged them, and the trio joined the fray.

Suddenly, the tables had turned. Dean had no idea how, but they were going to win. He knew it. Even Jack was kicking ass with Sam, Dean, and Cas watching his back together. But then, as Dean dropped yet another demon, he felt a crushing pain to his skull. Emile’s furious face appeared and Dean stumbled back into Jack, blood trickling into his eyelashes and clouding his vision.

“No!” Castiel shouted. 

Chaos ensued. A pained yell from a demon rent the air, then Sam and Jack grabbed Dean, saving him from a lethal slash of Emile’s sword. As the last demon died on the ground, his body electrified from the angel blade, Castiel stepped between Emile and Dean. The fight came to a halt. Dean was on the ground, his bleeding head was cradled in Sam’s arms.

“A sword? Really?” Dean slurred.

Emile's sword was thin and long, and it glowed with Enochian runes. 

“Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?” Emile said, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. “The kind of power I wield? I’ve seen things you hunters could never dream of. Touched magic stronger than a human soul! And the power it gives me…?”

“Sam, make him shut up,” Dean muttered loudly. His head was pounding.

“You won’t kill my friends,” Jack stepped forward next to Castiel, wielding the angel blade. “I won’t let you.”

“You have no power!” Emile laughed, “No grace! And yours…” his eyes flashed at Castiel, “it’s going haywire! You could burn out at any moment!”

“That’s all the time I need,” Castiel said.

Emile shouted and raised his angel sword, and just like that the battle resumed.

“Jack! Get back!” Sam shouted, but Jack didn’t budge.

Jack threw Castiel his blade, and angel blade clashed with sword. Castiel may have been half Emile’s height, but the little girl was agile and quick. Their weapons were silvery blurs as they dueled. Dean grabbed the demon knife out of Sam’s hand and threw it across the floor. Jack picked it up just in time. He flanked Emile and, together, Jack and Castiel were more than a match for him—A graceless nephilim and a grace-flowing, broken angel.

Sam’s eyes darted back and forth. He was on edge, torn between staying with Dean and entering the fight with just a gun. But Emile was human, after all. Sam’s eyes narrowed. _Emile was human._

“Sam, look,” Dean, who must have been thinking the same thing, gestured weakly at Emile’s angel sword.

Sam noticed it, too. The Enochian runes weren’t just on the blade. As the cuff of Emile’s sleeve moved back and forth as he fought, they saw the runes traveling up his arm. An angel sword wielded by a human... Was that possible? How could he do that?

“Cas!” Sam shouted, “Jack! He has the artifact! He’s touching it!”

The realization sparked new life in Castiel and Emile, and in Dean as well. Dean heaved himself up, startling Sam. “Sammy, go, they need you!”

Sam helped Dean stand, then took out his pistol.

“Together,” Sam countered.

Dean smiled.

Sam ducked away, unnoticed by Emile who had his hands full with Castiel and Jack. But one false move was all it took. Emile capitalized on his advantage and grabbed Castiel’s small arm, twisting him around and holding the sword to the little girl’s throat. Jack froze.

“Back up!” Emiel shouted at Jack. “Not another move! I’m going to kill every single one of you for all the trouble you’ve caused. I’ll cut you into pieces so small that not even Heaven can rebuild you!”

“Hey!” Dean hollered. He’d picked up a miraculously unbroken bottle of vodka and was aiming it at Emile. “Ass-butt!”

Castiel got the hint. He put all his weight on Emile’s arms, pulling him down to distract him as Dean lobbed the bottle into the air. Castiel wriggled out of the way just in time. It smashed over Emile’s head, the alcohol burning his eyes. He let Castiel go, who rolled aside and into Jack, unharmed. Then a fourth gunshot echoed through the club. Dean could hear it crack Emile’s skull. Sam had aimed perfectly from behind the bar. Emile staggered but didn’t drop. He was covered in blood and booze, still gripping his sword. He stood up slowly and looked at Sam. 

“It takes more than a bullet to kill me, bub.” Emile smiled darkly.

“How about this?” 

Emile spun around, but it was too late. Dean yanked Jack away, who was holding the tarnished golden cup aloft. Emile’s face fell. Jack had sneaked it right out of Emile’s pocket. Emile's eyes flew to his sword, which was no longer glowing.

“You little bastard.”

“Yup,” Jack agreed. He moved his thumb over the Enochian runes and focused on them with all the strength in his human soul.

Everyone ducked but Emile. He closed his eyes as the Chalise of Nerulum engulfed them all in blinding white light. The walls of the club were once again shaken as if in an earthquake, but there were no more bottles left to break. When the dust settled and the light faded, Castiel was panting on the floor and Jack was rising up, his eyes aglow and his grace returned from the depths of the cup.

Emile gave him a bitter smile, blood trickling down the side of his face.

“You will never hurt anyone ever again,” Jack growled. Emile’s sword flew into Jack’s hand as if attached by an invisible rope, and the blade lit up once again. Jack held it fast and plunged it into Emile’s chest. Emile keened, blood bubbling up and out of his mouth. He grasped the handle, clasping Jack’s warm hands with his icy ones.

“But you will, Nephilim,” Emile spat. "You will."

Jack frowned at him and yanked the sword back, letting Emile collapse. Sam, Dean, and Castiel slowly gathered around as Emile exhaled once more, staring mutinously up at them, and then died on the booze and blood-soaked floor.

There was a collective silence. It was as if they all shared one heart and it was beating back to a smooth and steady rhythm.

Jack took a deep breath, then turned to Dean. “Here. Let me,” he said, reaching out for the wound on Dean’s head.

Dean hesitated, but then closed his eyes. Sam and Cas watched as Jack healed him completely. Dean blinked and felt his head.

“We all good?” Sam asked the room.

“I believe so,” Castiel replied.

“Great,” Dean said, “Let’s go get your body back, Cas, before you fizzle out.”

“And before the cops come,” Castiel agreed.

Dean smiled at him and the little girl smiled back. It was still, somehow, a strikingly ‘Castiel’ smile.

“You gonna keep that thing?” Sam asked Jack in amusement, who suddenly realized he still had the angel sword in his hand. “I think you earned it.”

Jack examined the human blood gleaming on the silvery blade. “No, I think I’d better stick with figuring out my powers first. This’ll be safe in the bunker, though, with the cup.” He smiled at them all.

"Good idea," Castiel said.


	8. Chapter 8

The Impala barely made it back onto the streets of New Orleans before a barrage of police cars blocked the roads leading towards the club, their sirens ablaze. It was a good thing, too, considering they were all covered in blood and vodka, and Jack was carrying a sword and a stolen chalice. They sped away towards the docks and Castiel's hidden vessel.

The sunrise was just barely visible as they drove to the shipping docks—a strip of brilliant pink and blue beneath the dark storm clouds drifting on to the next town. The rain had stopped, although the docks were now covered with an inch of water. Dean spotted the old, unused warehouse where Emile had locked them up in the distance. It was mostly submerged. The Impala roared to a stop near the storage containers and saw a figure standing there. Cass was waiting for them, clad in jeans and a leather jacket, and looking as bloody as they did.

“Is it true?” She asked as soon and everyone was out of the car. “Is Emile dead?”

“Yup,” Dean said proudly. “As a doornail.”

Cass looked around at them all, pausing at Castiel in his tiny body, then gave them an exasperated sigh. “Unbelievable. I spend years trying to kill him, and you boys roll into town on a whim and kill him in one night.” But then she smiled. “You really are the Winchesters.”

Sam smiled. “Guess so.”

“Well, your other vessel is in there,” she nodded towards the shipping container. “Safe and sound.”

“Thanks, Cass,” Sam said.

Castiel looked exhausted.

“You sure you want to upgrade, Cas?” Dean smirked, “I mean, your new vessel kinda kicks ass.”

Castiel gave him a sarcastic look. “I’m ready to see over the bar again, Dean.”

Dean chuckled. “Can’t fault you there.”

Jack and Castiel walked into the storage unit, leaving a tense silence behind. No one felt like asking the obvious question, not when they were still so full of victory. Even Cass remained silent, watching the container. Would Jack's returned grace be enough to mend the damage done to Castiel's vessel in time?

After a few minutes, Sam, Dean, and Cass shared a relieved sigh as Cas, Jack, and the little girl walked out of the container looking weary, but pleased.

Sam and Dean smiled at them. Even Cass was beaming. Castiel’s grace had lasted just long enough, and with Jack’s returned nephilim grace, they were able to use the chalice to put everything right. The damage done to Jack by ripping his grace and soul apart seemed to have been healed completely. 

At last, Castiel knelt down to speak to the little girl, and everyone stopped talking. She looked perfectly unbothered watching the adults with their swords and blood-stained clothes. Castiel smiled at her gratefully.

“I cannot thank you enough. You showed more courage tonight than many humans will in their entire lives. You saved us all, not to mention the countless lives that will be saved by the containment of this artifact. You and your family should be proud.”

She shrugged. “No biggie,” then held up her fist. 

Somehow, perhaps from spending time in the little girl’s mind, Castiel knew what to do. He fist-bumped her and she smirked.

“C’mon, let’s get you home,” Cass said, smiling in amusement.

Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack exchanged looks. 

“Dude,” Dean said, “We should invite her to hunt with us.”

The little girl threw them a peace sign before getting into Cass’s car.

“Seriously.” Sam huffed in amazement.

They watched Cass’s car drive back up the docks and onto the road, the rear lights blazing red like the rising sun.

“Well,” Jack said at last, “I guess you want this?” He held out the artifact to Dean.

Everyone seemed to sober up at the sight of the little golden cup. It looked completely unremarkable, and yet it sent a chill down everyone’s spines. Castiel and Sam looked to Dean, but Dean smiled.

“Why don’t you hang on to it? We’ll lock it up when we get back to the bunker.”

Jack beamed. “Okay.”

Dean caught Castiel looking at him out of the corner of his eye and smiled. Castiel smiled back.

“C’mon,” Sam said, “Let’s go home.”

The four of them got back into the Impala and headed for the motel. They were all exhausted and in need of a few hours of sleep. Jack glowed with pride at being assigned to watch over the sword and the cup, while the others got a few hours of much-needed sleep. After they slept, washed up, and recovered they all decided that they were due for a feast.

New Orleans had woken to a mess of activity. The chaos at the nightclub had made the papers, as well as the death of wanted criminal Emile Sinclair. Sam and Dean smiled as they drove to the French Quarter for some Old Southern bayou cuisine to celebrate. Dean ate so much that Sam had to drive afterward. Dean and Jack had also managed to fill a bag with beignets and smuggle it into the car. Sam and Castiel didn’t bother stopping them.

The ride home was warm and sunny, classic rock was playing softly on the radio, and it seemed like everything was back to normal. Castiel had made peace with his low grace and was teaching Jack a game involving license plates. It seemed that sharing the human experience had brought them even closer. Dean was more relaxed than Sam had seen him in weeks, and not just because of the food. He was happily messing up Castiel and Jack’s game and playfully badgering Castiel. Sam had forgotten how much he missed driving. The sword, the artifact, and the gym bag with the Italian translations of Supernatural sat at Jack’s feet, temporarily forgotten in the blissful summer breeze that blew over Lake Pontchartrain and Interstate 10, taking them home to Kansas.

The End


End file.
